Insanity Takes it's Toll
by doodlekiss
Summary: Murdoc has discovered his true self, and he is horrified. Has he really been living his whole life, carrying this lie? Why is haunted by his past? What did he do to put himself in such a state? One-shot. No pairings. Rated T. (928 words)


**Basically, this is Murdoc realizing he has destroyed his life. He thinks about all he's done, and sort of just..gives up. He reaches his breaking point and dips to insanity. Poor Muds.. :( Review if you liked it! Just a brief one-shot I made, so it might not be all that good. *shrug***

ENJOY! (~^_^)~

I can hear them. They speak just outside my ear, whispering words too faintly to understand. I can feel the words roll around in my brain, but yet I still cannot make out what they are. It angers me; I do nothing to stop them.

These sounds, sweet like a child, torment me. Relentlessly mumbling. All the voices sound so familiar, almost so much so that I don't recognize them. The hum sounds like flowers blooming in the crisp of winter, with frost nipping the already wilted petals.

That. That is what worries me. What do I mean when I utter such insanity? What does it say about me when I can't even decipher my own words? Am I doomed to lead a life of babbling misery? Yes, sadly I think that is the truth. The sick laughter of those bittersweet voices agree with me, mock me even. For some reason, though, I have made not a single effort to stop them. I haven't moved from this spot for so long. All I do is listen to their caustic remarks. It works. I feel the burn on my skin. I taste the fire on the tip of my tongue. What have I become?

Once, I was lucky. Once I was happy. No, I would be lying to say happy. I was never happy. As for lucky..Well, I wasn't really ever lucky either. My whole life is a lie. The only truth in it is that it is a lie. I have made a false existence; veered away from the pain as best as possible. And with that fake being, I have forced the truth in the ground and buried it ten feet deep. Alas, it seems not even the depths of Hell could save me from what I am. From what I _truly_ am.

Ah, Hell. One more thing I have tried desperately to evade. It and the wonderful creatures who inhabit it. Ha, but it seems that didn't work for me. Here I am, listening to the moan and groan of chattering voices, rain slapping the watery border of my home, wailing from the basement of-

What have I done? That abusive man I tried to hide has resurfaced, but since when? Have I always been so? In answer, I have done the things that shame me to sleep each night. The poor boy, he is locked down there. He hasn't said a word in several months. Sometimes I worry, but then I wonder if it is his woeful cries that rise to the surface of the water. I wonder 'Is that him? Or is it some creature I have forced to haunt the man day and night?' Why am I like this. A question, no. I want you to tell me what I did to put myself in such a state. Can you answer this: Do I deserve to live? After everything I've done? I have seen the looks, and felt the rejection. But what I do in response..It disgust even myself. The sad part is, I don't remember it at all. Every day I snap out of it, and he is clenched in my fist. His face is raw and bleeding, same as just about every other part on his body. I'm a monster. Monster's don't live happy lives. Hell, they don't even live. Why should I be an exception?

There is a tap on my shoulder. I glance up and see a tall and lanky figure towering above me. He smiles and brushes blue locks of hair out his eyes. In one swift motion, he swoops down and throws his arms around me.

"Why are you watching the dishwasher, Murdoc?" That is one of the voices I hear. He is sweet, yet biting. I cringe.

"Who are you."

"What do you mean? It's me, Stu." he says with a worried smile. I feel the tears coming and do nothing to stop them.

"Go away..Please.." The man looks at me for a minute more, presses his hand to my forehead, then rises to his feet.

"You don't remember me, do you?"

"I do."

"Who am I?"

"..David."

"No, Murdoc. My name is Stuart. You call me face-ache. I'm the singer for your band. I'm..I'm your friend." The man removes his hand from my shoulder, taking a wary step backwards.

"Face-ache?" It try the word out. It sounds mean and spiteful. I don't like it.

"Yeah, that's..yeah."

"It's awful. I'm sorry." My body is heavy. I can feel it rocking. The voices chant. I fall to their wants, tilting back and watching black snakes writhing across my vision. The man shouts something, but all I hear is a dull ring and the soft thump my frame makes as it hits the hard ground.

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**  
So, I actually came up with this while sitting on my couch. It was kind of quiet, and I could hear the dishwasher running. I noticed that it sounded a bit like voices, and then I was like 'I wonder if Murdoc hears voices?..' This is literally based on my dishwasher. That's how bored I am right now. Lol I hoped you guys liked it. :3 Sorry, I know it's a bit sad. That tends to happen when I write in Murdoc's perspective. -_-# Bye guys :)**


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